I Spy Something . . . RED!

In our yard these days, that's all we see.

To start, I have to admit that it has been a huge blessing to be surrounded by enormous trees on all sides. Between the three in our neighbors yard that border our shared wall, the four out on the street and the lone tree that stands within the gates of our patio, we have shade all day long which (of course) means cooler temperatures inside the house and (slight) protection from sun-exposure when we're all playing outside.  Don't worry, Bailey still wears sunscreen.

But the MESS!!

During winter, the leaves that amassed in the yard on a daily basis was simply mind-boggling.  Sweeping and raking should have been a daily chore, but I stretched it out to every second or third day simply because it was frustrating to see an hours worth of work utterly destroyed by dinner-time.  It took me a few days to recover and gather the stamina to go at it again.

As we headed from winter to summer, the brief spring we had brought onto the patio a constant shower of pollen and immature fruit blossoms jostled loose by the wind.  My allergies were already on high alert since I can't take my medication while pregnant (and pregnancy hormones have triggered a greater sensitivity to pollen, dander and the like); the layer of plant droppings that blanketed our yard did nothing to help the situation.

And now it's summer.  

One of our neighbors trees is bearing tiny cherry-sized fruits that our Paraguayan friends have told us are manzanitas (little apples).  The tree branches hang over our wall and drop the little crimson fruits onto our yard by the bucket full.   Bailey loves to throw them as if they were a baseball or tennis ball and frequently crushes them to bits with her fingers.  Our nanny has collected, washed, and fed some to her which makes for some moments of confusion as we scold her for picking them up off the ground to eat when just earlier in the day she had some for a snack.  Her compromise? Feed them to Nala.

As the side yard is covered with the cherry-red manzanitas, our front patio gets a daily sprinkling of red flowers from a tree that sits out on the street corner.

The tree itself is beautiful; we actually have the picture of a similar tree as the background of our computer because I love the rich red color of the flowers, together with the green leaves against a blue sky.

But, man! do those blooms fall.  Here's the pile I swept up not 12 hours after the last sweep:

And two hours after that:

But in it all I will give thanks. For the shade, for the protection from the sun, and for the time outside that I get to enjoy with my family.  Granted we're working, but we also get to sit back and appreciate a job well done, even when the next breeze sends a flurry of scarlet blooms our way.

Because I Got High

You all know what I'm talking about; that surge of energy, that feeling like you and God have "never been closer", those tears of that openly flowed as you prayed with your cabin mates that last night.  Most of us experienced it as campers ourselves.  Some of us made life-altering decisions during such highs.

And, unless I'm way out-of-touch and utterly unobservant, it was lacking at ACA's junior high camp last week.

And, I'm still trying to decide how/what I feel about it.

I don't feel like we did anything terribly wrong at camp to quench the Spirit and inhibit God's moving in the student's lives.  We led the students in daily quiet times and had two chapel sessions a day, complete with silly games, music, and a quality speaker. We followed up each chapel session with breakout groups, divided by cabin. We followed the "camp high recipe" to a T.

But as Hamlet said, "Aye, there's the rub."

The "high" was expected.  As counselors, we talked about the camp high as though it were inevitable.  We introduced new songs during the first few chapels expressly for the purpose of the students being able to close their eyes and really focus on the words' meanings during that last night as they "got their high on".

Who do we think we are? I think God's chuckling a bit at our foolish pride. And I'm grieved over a few things that I'm choosing to/trying not to blame for our "failure".

First, the worship team.  A week before camp, I was (finally) given a list of the students who would be leading music at camp: four girls to sing, a drummer, guitarist, and keyboardist.  The perfectionist in me was worried about having an all-student worship team without an "expert" to guide them along, but I swallowed my pride and embraced the simplicity of it all.

Trouble was, though, that there was no drum set either at the camp or at school that we could take with us.  Bye-bye drummer.  And the keyboardist had a broken leg and was opting out of camp since he would have extreme difficulty getting from point-A to point-B, let alone get to enjoy any of the activities.  Adios keyboardist.   The guitarist, just told me point-blank that he didn't want to play (and I wasn't going to coerce him into leading worship). Sayonara, guitarist.  So, our "team" was down to four eighth grade girls who could carry a tune.  And we had a week to figure something out.  Thankfully, one of the guy counselors knows how to play guitar and graciously agreed to head up worship for us.  The team practiced during the 20 minute "snack" break between 2nd and 3rd period, the girls scrambling to learn the songs picked out for the week.  Not our best effort. And it showed, quite painfully.

And then there was the weather. Tuesday night's chapel started outdoors because of a power outage.  Half-way through the music/worship (I'm not quite sure which to call it), the power came back on and the kids impulsively scrambled for seats inside the now-lit chapel.  I guess we're moving inside.  The rain started during the wee-hours of Wednesday morning, that oh-so-pivotal last day of camp.  The rain was off-and-on all day, forcing us inside for some morning games, but allowing us outdoors in the afternoon for a picture scavenger hunt and some much needed running-around-time.

Knowing that rain was a distinct possibility for the evening, we prepped the 8th graders for potential bad news: we might have to cancel the bonfire, we might have to skip the traditional "hide the 8th graders" game, and we might have to watch a movie with all of the students in the evening (the movie is usually an 8th grade only event that they were unusually excited about).  But if the rain held out, we'd proceed as planned.  And at the start of evening chapel, everything was running according to (our) plan.  But as the speaker wound up his final talk and challenged the students to group up and devise a viable plan to raise money to help fight hunger/poverty in Asuncion, lightning bolts shattered the sky, thunder shook the building, and the downpour began.  

I could honestly feel a switch in the students.  They didn't care about the "feed the hungry" project any more.  All the week's talks about God's holiness and His might, His unfailing care for us and the lost . . . it dissipated instantly as those first water droplets hit the roof.  They were gone. They were more focused on the bonfire, the game, the movie, than they were the REAL intent of the week.  It became painfully obvious that they didn't truly "get it".   And later when the power went out, spoiling the movie for everyone, the camp was declared the "worst week ever," despite the bonding, worship, and amazing chapel sessions.

The thing that has bothered me the most, though, is how over "academic-ized" chapel, quite times and God-based discussions have become for many of the students.  From this one week of day-long interaction with  them, it seems as though the idea of reflective thinking is completely foreign. So much so that they have no frame of reference for how to even begin.  Everything - EVERYTHING - has a "right" answer and they need to know what it is to fill in the blank on their outline or have compete notes or ace the "test" at the end. "God", "Jesus", "the Bible", and "prayer" are the go-to answers and, when pressed to explain - "what do you mean by that?" - their baffled expressions are, well, baffling.

Quite times were frustrating.  The "content" questions had to have exact right answers (and all the girls made sure that they had the same things written in their journals - so much for individual quiet times).  The "reflective" questions were met with more questions than heart-felt pondering.

"Mrs. T, what do you mean by 'how are you doing in this area?' "

Um, well, I mean, "how are you doing in this area?"

"I don't get it."

Humm, what to say to that . . .

And chapel notes.  Who makes camp chapel notes compulsory, part of students' Bible class grades? Apparently we do.  And boy were those students focused on filling those lines of their journals, finished when they reached a page per session, despite the content that fell past the one-page mark.  Frustrated when the PowerPoint slide changed before they could copy verbatim the title of that night's message.  Focused on spelling, grammar, and completing a task rather than on the heart of the matter.

**deep sigh**

My hope in typing this all out was that I would come to some conclusion about the week.  That by putting all my thoughts on "paper" I would see the common thread and be able to make some profound (or even quaint) summative statement about the week.  But this post is leaving me much like the week at camp did - unfulfilled and lacking.

What I will say is that I hope Bailey (and baby #2) learns to take notes the way I did: by watching my mom in church.  Because of a desire to retain what is being taught.  Not confined to a sheet of paper because it was assigned and obligatory, but led by the Spirit and His prompting in her heart.  I hope to teach her how to think about her spiritual walk, letting her think through the "grey" areas, struggling to see God in His simplicity and His complexity. And I pray the weather outside doesn't distract her from a calling He's placing in her life.  

Snapshots of JH Camp

This past week, I (Stacy) went off to Itacurubi with the 6th, 7th and 8th grade students at Asuncion Christian Academy.  It was a long four days without Brandon and Bailey, but we all survived.  Barely. :)

I'm still mulling over a more thoughtful, reflective post about the overall camp experience, but until that materializes, here are some pictures to walk you through the highlights of the week:

Chipa!  On the way to camp, our bus made two pit stops, the first of which was to load up on chipa, a traditional snack/breakfast type bread.  One of the ladies boarded the bus and traded mini-loaves of chipa for 2,000 guarani (around $0.50).  The second stop (not five minutes later) was for ice cream, peanuts, sodas and other snacks.

A word of prayer to start the week and then it was off to team competitions!

Volleyball . . . it was a little scary to watch at first, but they picked it up quickly and even "practiced" during free time.

Each team came up with their own names consisting of an assigned color + animal + modifier (adjective or adverb).  The boys and girls on the teams then made their own posters.

Pool time! The first two days at camp were BEAUTIFUL and everyone enjoyed an afternoon in the water.  It was funny, though, that the girls were more worried about getting pictures of themselves swimming while the boys just wanted to swim. 

Soccer . . . anyone surprised?

Crazy relays with Profe Diego.  To earn 1/2 a point for their teams, pairs of kids had to hold a volleyball between their foreheads and weave through a maze of cones.

To earn a full point, they had to complete the same route in sets of four.  This team did it right, balancing the volleyball on top of the heads of two short kids while the two taller ones held it in place.

Mano, mano!  In this twist of the soccer classic, the students on the field could only use their hands and the goalie could only use his/her feet. My back hurt just watching them.

Go pink!  Not an official "team" at camp, this oh-so-energetic group of girls was nicknamed "pink team" by our chapel speaker.  And yes, this was as excited as this group got.  

To start off each chapel, teams competed in silly games. Here, the girls had to take off and put back on their socks while wearing socks on their hands.  

Rain, rain, go away!  What to do when rain spoils all outdoor activities? DANCE PARTY!  Each team was assigned a genre of music and a "character" to have in their dance.  Here, hip-hip music with a person dressed all in black.  Another team had to do ballet wearing towels.

This team was assigned regeton (popular clubbing music) with a duck (far right).  The last team performed salsa with two cheeses.

The 8th grade girls that I got to chaperone. Considering the rain "ruined" the last night of camp and several of the special things the 8th graders have traditionally done, they were pretty good. They even let me nap every afternoon (yes, I played the pregnancy card). 

Group shot!  

Silly faces . . . :)

Our Neighbors

When we moved into our house, we shared the corner with two restaurants. Dangerous, I know.

The one directly across from us - Costa del Oro (Gold Coast) - quickly became Brandon's favorite; he was a weekly regular and quickly befriended the waiter.   It is an Uruguayan restaurant, though I couldn't tell you the difference between the food there and traditional Paraguayan places (except the absence of chipa quazu and sopa paraguaya).  The restaurant has a small inside area and a nice sized patio that we've enjoyed, too. Over the past months, we've frequented the restaurant fewer and fewer times, but share greeting with the owners and staff daily.  Every Sunday, our corner is packed with cars lined up for the weekly pasta buffet; we've yet to try it, but judging by the traffic on the streets, it's gotta be pretty good.

Caddy-corner is Rosopomadoro, a pizzeria that we've actually only visited once (shocking, I know).  The first night Abue and Grandpa Trevino were here, we ordered a pizza and calzone to go and enjoyed it at home once Bailey was asleep (yeah, it was a late dinner).  Our friends Cassie and Nate ordered a pizza from them one night while babysitting and had the same thoughts as we did: it was good, but nothing extraordinary, and a bit overpriced.  I haven't noticed a slew of traffic in and out of it's doors, but they also deliver so that may be where most of their business comes from.

The newest addition to our cozy little corner is Paraguayan restaurant, Ramambu.  I've been told that the by-line under the restaurant's name - lembi u Paraguay - is Guarani for something along the lines of "good, traditional, Paraguayan cuisine." But don't quote me on that (reminder: Guarani is the second official language of Paraguay).  Until a week ago, we thought that someone had just bought the house and was in the process of remodeling it as a place to live.  It wasn't until the sign went up last Friday and people started rolling in for the grand opening that we realized that we were surrounded.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit of pressure to put some tables out on the patio and open some sort of cafe . . .

Nah!

Dia de Boqueron

Wikipedia - in it's supreme authority and accuracy - refers to Dia de Boqueron as the "D-Day of the Chaco War" and, from what I've gathered from other slightly more reliable sources, that statement is not too far off.  On September 29, 1932, a Paraguayan siege on "Fortin Boqueron" (Fort Boqueron) successfully forced Bolivians to surrender.  It was not the final battle in the Chaco War (a cease fire wasn't signed until June 12, 1935), but it was a significant battle that prompted other successful offensives.  


And now, it's a national holiday! And what better way to celebrate than with a church-league soccer tournament?

Daddy playing for the men's team.

Last Thursday, as we enjoyed a reprieve from school, our church participated in a soccer tournament against some of the other Christian Missionary Alliance churches in the area.  There were 8 men's teams and 6 girl's teams that played. Brandon (of course) played, but I opted out; after being put on bed-rest three times in three months, I thought that a soccer tournament might be pushing it.  :)

Chillin' in the shade at the playground.

Our pastor said that in the past they had done a play-off system with a finals match, but that it got pretty heated between the teams in the finals and none of the other teams stuck around for the final match.  So rather than have an anti-climactic, un-Christ-like finish, they opted for a round robin style tournament this year with each team playing the other. The winner was determined by the total number of goals your team scored during the day. 
  

  Our women's team finished second overall! Woo-hoo! :)

Bailey put herself on trash duty, collecting wrappers and straws left behind in the sand.

And while we had been enjoying a semi-spring like week, Thursday brought the heat.  Thankfully the park was nicely shaded and there was a cool breeze blowing.  The players were still baking out on the turf, but us spectators were (reasonably) cool.  

Go, Daddy! Go!

While we waited for Daddy's games to start, Bailey and I played in a nearby sand area.  She loved going down the slide, moving sand from one spot to another, and even played with some of the other kids from church.  She's so used to being alone that she has anti-social tendencies (like her Mommy) so it was nice to see her approach other kids and play (nicely!) with them.  

Caleb and Josiah (our pastors oldest two) playing with Bailey. 

They have two younger sisters (twins, 2 1/2) so they knew how to be patient with her!

Bailey and I stayed for the first four games, but by 11:30 or so, Bailey was done.  She usually goes down for a nap around 9:30, add in the heat and the extra exertion playing around at the park . . . one grumpy toddler, coming right up!  Plus, Bailey is a walking heater and when she gets hot she sweats...a lot.  And her face turns bright pink.  Despite two sunscreen applications before 10:30, and a rather shaded sitting area, she looked like she's been sun bathing for hours at the beach wearing nothing but baby oil.  Poor thing!  Needless to say, she took a long nap once we finally got home. 


After Daddy got home, took a shower, re-hydrated and napped himself, we headed out to for dinner to finish celebrating Dia de Boqueron.  While waiting for our food, Bailey and Brandon played "pass the rattle" on the table.  I just LOVE her laugh!